


the song from venus

by eruthiel



Category: Bell Book and Candle (1958)
Genre: 1950s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bittersweet, Drabble Sequence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control, Music, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sex Magic, Sexual Content, Weight Gain, Weird Fluff, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruthiel/pseuds/eruthiel
Summary: Nicky isn’t as powerful as Gil; he can’t do love. But he can get similar results, at least in the short term.
Relationships: Nicky Holroyd/Sidney Redlitch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the song from venus

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [the Stephin Merritt song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5R7k3dzyxa8) but this was also heavily influenced by: [Yet Another Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6o0azLm4Q9Q) by the 6ths; [Rats in the Garbage of the Western World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Z8u5svZAls), [I Think I Need a New Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQOrLamT0n4) and [All My Little Words](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C91aKk5ryzI) by the Magnetic Fields.

Nicky isn’t as powerful as Gil; he can’t do love. But he can get similar results, at least in the short term.

He sits cross-legged on the stage, his hands a blur, and stares down at his target. _You want to fuck me tonight,_ he thinks firmly in Sidney's direction, battering enchantment into the drumbeat with all his might. _You want to come to my digs, slam me against the wall, and fuck me. Nothing wrong with that. A man has needs. Physical needs. In fact you're starting to get hard just thinking about it, aren't you, you dumb lush?_

* * *

While it's happening, Sidney doesn't know anything. Then suddenly everything goes quiet and it's like waking up from a trance; he wonders how long he's been sitting there, staring up into Nicky's eyes, with his mouth open. _Enchantment,_ he thinks. _I wonder what he did to me? Tricky little bastard. He just needs a good hard fucking, that'd sort him out._

Sidney's drink snorts out of his nose. _Wow, where did that come from?_

_It's true, though. He only acts crazy because he wants attention. Someone ought to take the poor kid under his wing._

_Someone ought to fuck him._

* * *

Sidney's mouth tastes of stale beer and whiskey and oranges and gin and wine and cigarettes. His hair, which is sticking out in all directions, is greasy to the touch. He does need a barber. His whiskers are pleasingly soft, though, and Nicky tells him so.

Sidney doesn't hear. Eyes glazed, hands pawing hungrily at Nicky's body and tugging on his clothes, already breathing hard in his ear, against his throat. _Maybe I mixed this one just a bit stronger than necessary,_ Nicky thinks, as he collapses backward onto his rickety little bed with Sidney's bulk on top of him.

* * *

Sidney awakes with something other than his usual hangover. Rubbing his eyes, he looks around the squalid little room. Jazz is playing on a phonograph while Nicky sits beside it, grinding something with a mortar and pestle. "Morning, lover."

Sidney groans. "You enchanted me."

Nicky flashes his teeth. "Just a complementary taste of the magical delights to come."

"Christ, Nicky. This sort of thing is exactly why nobody trusts you people."

Still smiling, Nicky puts down the mortar and slinks over to the bed. "If you would rather do it with a clear head," he purrs, "you can just ask."

* * *

Nicky quickly learns that his new partner is no dumb lush. Well, lush, yes. But even when he's drunk, which is always, Sidney's endless inquisitiveness and attention to detail make it clear why his previous book was such a hit.

Besides which, Nicky rather likes being studied. To other witches, his little parlour tricks are worth patronising smiles; to Sidney, they are miracles. His stories are never too long or elaborate for Sidney. Those eyes fixed on him and that big smile, childish delight mixed with intellectual curiosity, Sidney murmuring _astonishing boy_ to himself... Nicky could get used to that.

* * *

"You think that one's a trip, this'll really knock your socks off. Ha!" Nicky holds up another little jar and rattles the dry leaves inside.

Sidney squints at it, trying to force his eyes to focus on the label. Between the pleasant fog in his head and the thick, fragrant smoke filling the room, it's not easy. "What's -- what's it do?" he slurs.

"Makes you wanna..." Nicky waggles his eyebrows and gestures, "yeah?"

Sidney giggles. "Is that magic? Sounds like a regular aph... aph'odisiac."

Nicky grins, already unscrewing the lid. "Pass another skin and we'll find out, shall we, Sid?"

* * *

Nicky was close to starving before Sidney started taking him out for dinner. His clothes, after getting more and more baggy all year, quickly fit again. Then they even start to feel a little snug. With minimal wheedling, Sidney takes him out to buy new suits -- nothing fancy, but they’re warm, and they make Nicky feel like a princess.

"Slow down," Sidney cautions later that day, when Nicky orders his second dessert. "You’ll bust out of your nice new trousers."

"Then you’ll just have to buy me another pair." Nicky winks and shoves a forkful of cake in his mouth.

* * *

One day, Nicky suddenly sits back from the typewriter and says, "Why are you so interested in this, Sid? What's it got to do with you?"

Without thinking, Sidney says, "You're fascinating." He pauses, then starts to backpedal. "You people generally, I mean. And secret, which makes anything interesting."

"So when we're not secret anymore, you won't care?"

Sidney lights another cigarette. "When d'you suppose that'll be?"

"Well, I..." Nicky blinks, feeling stupid. "I guess I just assumed when the book comes out, folks won't feel like they have to hide so much. And we'll all just kinda... get along?"

* * *

Between all the booze and drugs, Sidney sometimes wonders if he's still under an enchantment. He sort of hopes he is, because he's been having quite a lot of sex with Nicky, and while he knows magic isn't currently a valid legal defence, it would at least set his own mind at rest. It would also explain the way his heart's started jumping every time Nicky walks into a room.

At least he's getting a lot of writing done. He can't tell if it's any good or not, or if it even makes sense, but it's something to show Shep.

* * *

One night Sidney mumbles, "Can you make people fall in love?"

"Me personally? I'm not that powerful."

"You must be pretty powerful. You got me here all the way from Acapulco."

"Ye-es," Nicky says slowly. "But that was different. Why are you thinking about this?"

"I thought maybe you'd done something like that to me," Sidney admits, "but I guess I must be imagining it."

After processing this for a moment, Nicky jumps up out of bed. Sidney watches him stumble over to the mirror and start frantically examining his own face, looking for telltale signs of the colour pink.

* * *

Even if it _were_ love, what then? They could never be normal, like Gil and Shep. Nicky would cease to be a magical pet and become just another kooky little beatnik dropout. Sidney could take him to Mexico and try to keep him at home, to minimise the damage... let him play the saucepans like drums and unnerve Sidney's friends when they come round for cocktails. No, Nicky would make a terrible housewife.

But he makes a perfect _something._ Sidney can't articulate what that something is. Maybe it's simply 'Nicky,' and that's why Nicky is so wonderful at being it.


End file.
